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by Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar



Category: Something Rotten! - Kirkpatrick/Kirkpatrick/O'Farrell
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Future Angst, M/M, Modern AU, read chapter summaries for future trigger warnings, takes place before canon timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:29:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar/pseuds/Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar
Summary: A series of one-shots about Nick and Will, two young playwrights and actors in love and trying to make it in London. Featuring Nigel as a teenager, Will's loving family, and Nick's best friend/right hand man, Bea. Chapter 2: Will deals with cultural shock in London.





	1. A Minor in History Put to Good Use (Finally)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally gets to validate his history minor and pizza.

“I’ll only be gone a few hours. All I ask is you stay with Nigel -- maybe make dinner if you’re feeling especially kind.”

Will sighed and leaned against the counter. Nick wasn’t waiting for an agreement. He grabbed his keys and jacket and casted a pleading look to Will.

“Does he really need a babysitter?” Will asked.

“Don’t think of yourself as a babysitter. Just… emotional support in the possible case of an emergency.”

Will rolled his eyes. 

“Come on. I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone for so long so late at night. Maybe it’ll be different in a year or two, but for now, I need you to stay here.”

“All I have to do is make sure he doesn’t die?”

Nick nodded. “That’s all you have to do.”

“Fine.”

Nick smiled and kissed Will on the cheek. He rushed for the door. 

“Nigel should be home soon. I already sent him a text so he knows what’s going on. Make sure he does his homework. Sometimes he gets a little sidetracked. Oh, and if I’m not home at 8, make sure he eats.”

“That’s more than what we agreed on, and I know how to take care of a child, Nick.”

Nick was halfway out the door. “He’s not a child. Bye! Love you!”

The door closed. Will looked around the empty apartment. He had never been there before without Nick. And now he had to watch Nigel -- who he rarely talked to and never spent more than 15 minutes with alone -- for an undetermined amount of hours. He supposed he could work while Nigel did whatever it is that Nigels typically did. But any hope for normal conversation was out the window. He couldn’t help but feel awkward around his boyfriend’s little brother. 

The door opened so quietly Will hardly noticed.

“Hello,” he said, trying to sound chipper.

Nigel smiled at him. He had such an adorable smile. There was such pure joy behind it, and Will admired the youthful glee. 

“Your brother went out,” he said. “To talk to a producer.”

“Oh, I know. He texted me on my way home.”

“Good!” Will clapped his hands together. Nigel walked into the living room and set his messanger bag down on the sofa. “It'll just be the two of us for a while tonight.”

Nigel smiled again, but he didn't say anything as he began to dig through his bag. He pulled out textbooks that resembled bricks and a couple notebooks. 

“Do you have a lot of homework tonight?” Will asked.

Nigel sighed. “Yes! My teachers apparently think I have all the time in the world to study.”

“I remember going through the same thing in school. It was awful.”

“Nick never has sympathy for me.”

“Nick is a nerd.”

Nigel laughed. “He is! But he's so smart. He knows everything.”

“Well, it might appear that way to a 12 year-old, but really --”

“I'm 13.”

“Oh.” Will furrowed his brow. “Since when?”

“Since last May.”

Uncomfortable silence settled over the room again. Will couldn't even remember Nigel's age. He had been certain Nigel was only 12. He certainly didn't look 13. But then, what were 13 year-olds supposed to look like nowadays? Certainly not like Nigel. He was such a cute little boy. His ears stuck out at an awkward angle, his face radiated with happiness like he was made from sunshine. His hair was long, tight curls that framed his face that was unusually void of baby fat. 

Will grabbed his laptop and sat at the kitchen table. The apartment was so small, he was still practically in the same room as Nigel. He occasionally looked over his screen to watch Nigel flipping through his books. 

There was a lot of work to be done for the new show. The troupe was struggling to find a few additional cast members to perform as there wasn’t enough money to pay them well. There was also a lack of script. While Nick tried sucking up to the producers for more money, Will promised to finish the play. The shows were usually a collaboration between the two of them, but Nick was handling most of the business work, so Will only found it fair that he take care of the majority of the script. 

“Hey, Will?”

Will looked up. Nigel was sitting on the living room floor, book open in front of him and notebook on his lap. 

“Do you know anything about history?”

Will smirked and bobbed his head back and forth in the flamboyant way that he had made a habit when he spoke. “I minored in history.”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

Will briefly thought that he didn't go through years of school and several classes just to help a 13 year-old with his homework. But Nigel was in his little school uniform and looking up at Will with his big brown eyes. 

Will didn't really do much with his minor anyways. 

“Of course. What are you studying?” he asked. 

“Napoleon.”

“Oh, wonderful. Come here.”

Will closed his laptop, and Nigel gathered his stuff to move to the table. 

“What do you need to know?”

“Everything. I have all these questions to answer.”

Nigel pointed to a list of questions printed at the end of the chapter. Will skimmed them. Of course, they only needed basic responses, but Will could have written full essays on them. 

“Okay. So, the first one,” he said. “It's asking about why Napoleon fell.”

“I don't know. It seemed like a lot of things.”

“Well, it was. But write a straightforward answer. What are you thinking?”

“Um… his invasion of Russia?”

“You could say that. But you can get more specific. What happened?”

“His army fell apart. He lost respect.”

“There you go. Put that down.”

Nigel started writing. Will read the next question. 

“This one is easy. ‘How long did the Battle of Waterloo last’?”

“What was Waterloo?”

“Did you read the chapter?”

Nigel twiddled his pencil. “I read most of it. It got boring.”

“Read it. Anything you don't understand, I'll explain.”

Nigel sighed and flipped to a page he had dog eared. He put his chin in his hands with a pout. Will leaned back in his chair to watch him. They would be there for a while. Nigel had at least 15 pages to read before he was caught up. 

“What do you want for dinner, Nigel?”   


* * *

 

When Nick walked in the door, he was in a terrible mood. But he immediately heard giggling and smelled pizza and saw Will and Nigel sitting with each other at the dining table. 

“Hey,” he said, walking in the small kitchen.

“Hi!” Nigel said. 

Nick put a hand on his head. “How'd the evening go?”

“Good,” Nigel said. 

Nick looked to Will and smiled.

“He finished his homework, he ate, and he didn't die,” Will said. 

“I see,” Nick said. “And it’s past midnight.”

“Bedtime was never mentioned,” Will said.

“I don’t have a bedtime,” Nigel pointed out. 

Nick rolled his eyes. “Or common sense apparently. You have school tomorrow, Nige. Go to bed.”

Nigel groaned and stood. He grabbed his books and his bag.

“Goodnight,” Will said.

“Goodnight, Will. Thanks!” Nigel beamed at him. 

He went to his bedroom and when he closed the door, Nick looked to Will, who wore a smug grin. Nick sat in Nigel’s place and opened the pizza box.

“I didn’t know you ate this crap,” Nick said, grabbing a piece. 

“I do on occasion.”

“How often?”

“Once every two years.”

Nick laughed. “What?”

“I’m serious.” Will crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. 

“You haven’t eaten pizza in two years?”

“No. You know how strict I am with what I eat.”

Nick shook his head, chewing. He never understood Will’s vanity. It was to an extreme. He spent hours at the gym, was careful about everything he ate, and used multiple personal trainer apps on his phone to maintain a fitness plan. On top of that, he also spent an uncountable amount of time on his hair. 

Nick didn’t care what he looked like, though. Well, no. He  _ did _ care. He took pride in Will’s looks and being able to show him off. But deep down, he truly didn’t care. When asked about what he loved about Will, there were too many things that Nick could list before he thought about his looks.  

“How did tonight go?” Will asked.

“Okay. She’s happy with what we have so far, but she’s not putting any more money into the show. For right now, at least. I think that if we work a little harder on getting the script finished and getting rehearsals started, she’ll be more generous.”

Will hummed. “It’s better than her withdrawing completely from the show -- like what we were afraid of last week.”

“I suppose.”

Will reached across the table and patted Nick’s hand. “It won’t be that bad.”

“How did tonight go for  _ you _ ,” Nick asked, smiling. 

“I put my history minor to good use!”

“Oh? By helping a kid with his homework?”

“Yes. And I was thinking: we should write historical plays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s write about historical figures. Queen Elizabeth, Napoleon, King Henry, Julius Caesar maybe.”

Nick scoffed. “Let’s think long and hard before we do any of that.”

“Nigel liked my idea.”

“We’re basing our plays off of Nigel’s approval now?”

“Why not? He’s a good kid. He’s smart. He has a good taste in literature. We should run ideas by him more often.”

Nick smiled. It was such a relief that Will and Nigel had not only gotten along, but that Will actually seemed to adore Nigel. 

“Are you spending the night?” Nick asked. 

“Might as well.” Will looked at the table, littered with napkins, plates, glasses, and a half-eaten pizza. “We’ll clean up tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Nick grabbed Will’s hand and stood. He was exhausted and barely wanted to walk to his own bed. But Will was right behind him, and Nigel was probably climbing into bed, and the apartment was warm and the scent of pizza still lingered. He was content enough to gather enough energy to change and lay next to Will to fall asleep. 


	2. Pills Make the Heart Grow Slower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for drug use. Will deals with cultural shock in London.

_ He was only 21. Just a boy. Fresh in London and naive to the big city life. Being an actor and writer wasn’t getting him very far. Gigs were few and far between, and no one wanted a newbie -- which he found unfair. He was sure he was a better writer than most of the people with twice the experience than him.  _

_ One troupe had accepted him, but there was little organization. He had tried taking over as much as he could to get them jobs and an actual schedule. No one liked him being bossy, but there was nothing else for him to do.  _

“Are you in there?”

_ There were parties everywhere. His little village never had so much night life. In London, every corner he turned there was something going on. Clubs and bars were full. University students stumbled across the road from one party to another. Will had never seen anything like it.  _

“Open the door.”

_ A few people he befriended from past shows invited him out every weekend. There were other things to do, but Will was so stressed about trying to sort through the mess of the acting troupe that he needed something to distract himself for a little bit.  _

_ Drinking on Fridays quickly turned to getting totally wasted, which turned to blacking out on Fridays  _ and  _ Saturdays and nursing terrible hangovers on Sunday.  _

“Will, please.”

_ Work became even more stressful when their current show fell through, and they elected to write their own play for a change. Everyone had doubted how big of a challenge it was, and then immediately put the responsibility on Will.  _

_ “I can’t stay long,” he had said one Friday night. “I need to work.” _

_ His friends and the people around the bar listened to him complain about his writer’s block and lack of focus on his project. The strangers -- people who wore beanies and flannel shirts and ridiculous sweaters -- convinced him and his friends to go back to their apartment. They said they really liked underground artists and had ideas on how to fix his problem.  _

“Come on, answer me.”

_ Will didn’t know who was on top of him. But he did know that his kissing was amazing, and pills were being slid into his mouth. _

_ Will pulled away.  _

_ “It's okay,” the man said. “Just swallow. Trust me.” _

_ He lifted a bottle of water to Will’s mouth. The pills slid down his throat, and the man climbed off him. _

“I know you're in there.”

_ Will became desperate to keep his focus. Money he didn't put towards rent, he put towards whatever low quality pills he could find. He didn't even buy as much food. He didn't need food. He wasn’t hungry anymore when he was on a high. Nor was he ever tired. He could write pages and pages every night. The pills were a miracle.  _

“For God’s sake!”

_ His clothes quickly became baggy. He lost almost all muscle and all fat his body had. His face was gaunt. His eyes appeared sunken. His hands shook most of the time.  _

_ The acting troupe didn't seem to care about his rapidly deteriorating body. Maybe he hid it well. Maybe they didn't want to say anything. Maybe they just couldn't give two shits about his health.  _

_ Some days he slept through rehearsal. He would feel so exhausted after comedowns, he would fall asleep anywhere in his apartment for an entire day. His phone would show several missed calls and texts. He would send quick responses.  _

_ “Wasn't feeling well. Slept through the whole day. Sorry.” _

_ He knew no one believed him. _

“You're scaring me. Open the damn door!” 

_ One day a curly-haired man introduced himself to Will. He said his name was Nick, was just a few years younger than Will, and he needed someone in his own troupe. He said he was impressed by Will’s work after seeing an unimpressive performance. _

_ No one seemed to care when Will turned in his resignation to his troupe. Will didn’t even care. It didn’t matter to him where he ended up anymore. Nick welcomed him to his troupe with open arms. At least he was appreciated. _

“Please...”

_ His and Will’s relationship became rocky as the year went on. They were friends at first, but Nick didn’t put up with his constant absence and tardiness. He would yell and leave long, rambling voice mails. They always cut deep. For whatever reason, Will cared about what Nick thought.  _

“Will…”

_ In private, Nick would ask if everything was alright. He would look concerned, and his voice would be low. Like he was trying to tell Will that he could trust him. _

_ Will knew that he took care of his younger brother. Nick had a sort of mocked-paternal instinct and a very real fraternal one.  _

_ Nick obviously knew that Will was basically pouring pills down his throat at that point and going through bottles upon bottles of whiskey and beer a week. Occasionally, Will would almost tell him the truth. The words “amphetamine addict” would nearly slip out, but every time Will would catch them.  _

“I’m calling someone. Just hold on.”

_ Will would eventually need to stop.  _

The door opened. The janitor gasped. Nick ran in. 

Will was barely aware of what was happening. He knew he was on the floor of his dressing room, but he couldn’t remember ending up there. 

Nick knelt next to him and tapped his face. He looked up to the janitor and said something about calling 999. Will couldn’t talk. He couldn’t assure Nick he just needed some sleep. It was the only thing to do during the crashes. 

Will’s body began to tense up. He tried stopping it. His back arched and moans escaped his throat. Nick cradled his head and hushed him. He yelled again for the janitor to call 999. 

Nick told him it would be okay. 

Will’s heart raced. His mind was too foggy. He was forgetting how to breathe. 

Nick told him it would be okay. 

Will’s body tensed up again. A spasm cut off air to his throat. He choked.

Nick told him it would be okay. 

His vision was beginning to go. His eyes were open, but black clouds were settling in front of them. He tried focusing on Nick’s face... Nick’s worried, panicked face. 

Nick told him it would be okay. 

He couldn’t see anything. His body felt on fire. His heart was ready to burst. He couldn’t stay awake any longer. But all he needed was sleep. All he needed was rest. That always made him feel better. After a long sleep, he would feel fine. All he had to do was sleep. 

Nick told him to stay awake. 

Will fell asleep.


End file.
